


Dirty Laundry

by KissingWinchesters



Series: YouKnowTheyAreBrothers Blog [43]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Love Confessions, M/M, Scent Kink, secret feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 09:18:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13499052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KissingWinchesters/pseuds/KissingWinchesters
Summary: People don’t walk around telling everyone what weird stuff gets them off, and Dean isn’t going to either. What goes on in his own head is his goddamn business.





	Dirty Laundry

**Author's Note:**

> Read the original work including art/gifs [HERE](http://youknowtheyarebrothers.tumblr.com/post/164795266245/he-isnt-embarrassed-theres-nothing-to-be)

He isn’t embarrassed. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Not really.

People don’t walk around telling everyone what weird stuff gets them off, and Dean isn’t going to either. What goes on in his own head is his goddamn business.

Not that it is weird. (Ok, it’s weird.) But, considering Dean’s repressed sexual desire for his brother, he feels like he’s entitled. It could be worse. No one knows (Sam) and it’s not hurting anyone (Sam). So what’s the problem?

And it’s not like Dean does it all the time either. He’s not a pervert thank you very much. Just sometimes, when he catches himself looking at Sam too long, when everything around him compresses and the only thought he can keep in his head is Sam. Sam… fuck, Dean just needs it.

It’s a release. It’s not weird.

They’re packing up after a hunt.

Well, Dean’s packing. Sam is sulking because he got hit in the face and tossed on his ass by a ghost. He’s not in a full bitch mode, but he’s been sullenly quiet since they got back to the motel.

That’s fine with Dean though. He’s tired and there’s some junk on tv that’s keeping his mind blissfully blank, and he’s not even paying that much attention to what he’s shoving into his bag.

Looking back, Dean will blame a commercial about a “super oven” for distracting him, but he somehow ends up with a pair of Sam’s boxers in his hand. They must have been tossed into his clothes by mistake, he doesn’t know, but without thinking Dean lifts them to his nose and takes a good long inhale of the musky fabric. It’s like instinct, an action out of his control, but it only takes a second before his brain catches up with him.

There’s a choked sound to his right, and Dean doesn’t try to hope that there was no way that Sam didn’t see what he just did.

Dean turns his head, sure that his face screams “guilty as fuck”, but trying to come across as innocent. One look at his brother and Dean knows which one Sam believes.

“These aren’t clean,” Dean says, giving himself a mental high five for his quick thinking. The old sniff test. That explains everything.

Sam’s little frown remains fixed between his eyebrows.

“What?” Dean grabs one of his t-shirts and has a smell of the armpit, giving Sam a visual example that it’s a normal thing to see if clothes can take another wear or not. Please god let him think it’s normal.

“I don’t do that with my underwear, Dean. You just… they were my boxers.”

Dean’s jaw clenches and he hopes that Sam can’t see how red his face is in the shitty lighting in their room.

He figures he has two choices. One, laugh it off and somehow turn the tables so Sam is the one being scrutinised. Or two, come clean.

He goes for option three - anger.

He stands up (angrily), turns his back so that he can finish packing the last of his things, carefully avoiding the offending item of plaid. Dean whips his head around, glaring at Sam’s stunned mullet expression.

“Jesus, it was an accident. What’s your problem? It’s not like I…” Dean laughs, trying for a scoff but sounding borderline hysterical. “I don’t sniff your underwear on a regular basis.”

Sam is quiet. That’s not good. It means his giant brain is working stuff out and working this kinda stuff out will only lead to Dean spontaneously combusting or something equally horrific.

“Fucks sake,” Dean mutters, grabbing the handles of his duffle, intending to go out to the car, get some air, maybe drive into the sun.

Sam stops him with his body, chest all puffed out. It makes Dean madder.

“Get out of the way.” He dodges right, but Sam grabs his arm, fingers tight.

“Why’d you do it?”

Dean’s cheeks heat up even more, but he refuses to look away. He sets his jaw and yanks his arm free.

“It was a mistake. Now get out of the way.”

Sam stands his ground, as pig headed and stubborn as his older brother.

“It didn’t look like a mistake. And I didn’t see you do it with anything else. So why them?”

Dean shakes his head and takes a step back. Retreat isn’t in his nature, but Sam won’t let him leave so he needs to put space between them or he’s not sure what he’ll do.

“Did you like it?”

All the lurid colour drains from Dean’s face and Sam’s eyes go wide. Dean hasn’t even said anything but Sam knows. He knows now.

“Oh my god.”

“Sam… shut the fuck up.”

Sam is blinking like he has dust in his eyes or is trying to process a million thoughts at once. He smiles, then it drops, then he smiles again. Dean is going to be pissed if he’s having a stroke or something.

“Are you gonna punch me? Or worse? Do it quick and then I can leave.”

Dean is shaking, vibrating with fear at the idea of losing Sam. He can’t believe he was so stupid. Of all the messed up things he’s put Sam through over the years, nothing compares to this.

“I’m not going to punch you, or anything worse.” Sam’s voice is calm, his eyes soft. “How long?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dean replies, unable to think of a time he wasn’t in love with Sam.

“It does and I deserve an answer.”

Dean makes a noise of frustration and paces a few steps before pausing. He shrugs, exhaling a long breath. Defeated.

“A while.”

“Weeks? Months?”

“Years,” Dean adds. He really wishes Sam would punch him.

“Is it just that?” Sam takes a step towards him, and Dean let’s him. “Just the underwear thing?”

“Yes… no… I don’t know what the fuck you want me to say?” It’s on the tip of his tongue. He wants Sam to know that he needs him so bad that it physically hurts, but he’s afraid. Monsters, dark things in the night Dean can handle. But this…

“Do you want me, Dean? Is that it?”

Sam looks so young, innocent like Dean always tried to keep him. He just wants the truth and Dean has been keeping it inside for so long.

“I tried to stop… I’d never have touched you, Sam. I… it’s not wrong, but… Can we just not talk about it again and be us still?”

“No, we can’t,” Sam replies.

“Sammy, please…”

Dean is sure he hears the rumble of the earth splitting beneath his feet, but then Sam has his hands on his face, his lips on his, and Dean is the only one splitting.

He jerks back, separating them from the shock of it, but Sam just laughs softly and kisses him again. It’s so soft, tender for fucks sake, and Dean must be dreaming.

Sam is holding him by the biceps, making sure he doesn’t run, opening Dean’s mouth with his tongue. Dean pulls away again.

“Hold up.” He swallows and covers his mouth with his hand.

“I’ve been hiding things too,” Sam says, reading Dean like he always does. “How I feel about you.”

Dean looks at Sam, really looks, and all he can see is honesty.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” Sam continues, uncurling his hands from Dean’s arms, his long fingers sliding up to Dean’s neck instead.

He kisses Dean again, even softer than before, their mouths barely even touching. It’s more than any fantasy has imprinted on Dean mind, so much better, because it’s real.

Realizing that his hands are hanging limp by his sides, Dean finally gets with the programme and grabs onto Sam’s waist, pulling him in so that Dean can really kiss him. Their lips slide over each other and Sam grunts at the added pressure. It’s a good grunt, and Dean plunges his tongue into Sam’s mouth seeking more.

Moving his hands up, Dean already knows the feel of his brother. He knows his muscles and skin and bones, knows his blood. He can recite every mole and scar on his body like poetry. Dean may even know Sam better than he knows himself. But he’s never known him like this before.

He’s got his fingers in Sam’s hair now, angling his head to get deeper, taste more, and Sam gives it all to him willingly.

They both want this, and it’s happening.

Dean’s so caught up in that thought that he’s almost forgotten that he was caught sniffing Sam’s underwear. Maybe the awesomeness of making out with Dean has wiped Sam’s brain?

When their kisses slow down again through need of oxygen, Dean makes his way over to Sam’s jaw, ducking down to lay a few open mouthed sucks to Sam’s neck. He pulls him into a tight hug, smiling when Sam wraps his arms around him. Dean could stay like this forever.

“I can’t believe you like the smell of my dirty underwear.”

There’s a smirk on Sam’s face. Dean can’t see it but he knows it’s there from his tone. Definitely not forgotten about that then.

“Uhh…”

Sam leans back but doesn’t move his arms, keeping them circled under his shoulder blades. He laughs, dimples popping on each cheek.

“It’s pretty gross even for you.”

“Ok, can we never talk about it again? Ever?” Dean is freaking blushing again. “I won’t do it again.”

Sam wrinkles his nose but shakes his head.

“You like doing it, I don’t want to stop you, just… I’m not smelling yours.”

Dean groans and hides his face against Sam’s shoulder. He smells so good.

Sam’s shoulder shakes when he laughs.

“See you can’t get enough. You’re doing it now.”

Dean’s had enough ridicule. It’s not right. He shoves Sam away and gets some smug satisfaction when he falls back onto his bed.

They both look at each other and crack up, Dean bending almost in half and Sam ducking his head between his legs. Dean gathers himself first, straightening up and just watching Sam, no tension or angst between them. Nothing’s changed. They’re still them, still brothers… just more.

Dean takes a step closer, puts his hands on Sam’s shoulders. When Sam looks up, Dean leans leans down to kiss him. It’s short, sickeningly sweet, and Dean knows he will never get enough to slake his hunger.

Sam puts his hand on Dean’s chest and with a gentle push, breaks the kiss. He leans back against the bed, propped up on one elbow, his other hand laid in the crease of his thigh.

Dean’s eyes darken at the sight.

“You can have the real thing now.”


End file.
